


i just got the taste for it

by loveleee



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, OH and also:, Thanksgiving, at a football game, caught on the kiss cam, it's silly fluff, that's all this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:20:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27564424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveleee/pseuds/loveleee
Summary: Jughead’s entire body freezes. It’shis facestaring back at him in millions of pixels –his facestretched at least thirty feet high across the scoreboard –his faceframed beside Betty’s inside of an enormous pink heart.With a sharp intake of breath, Betty squeezes her arm tight around his.(Betty & Jughead & a Thanksgiving football game.)
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 64
Kudos: 156
Collections: 8th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	i just got the taste for it

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the prompt: "Strangers who end up on the kiss cam at a sporting event AU."

“Is it halftime yet?”

From Jughead’s left, a sharp elbow digs into his side. “Not even close, Torombolo. Stop complaining.”

But from his right, the tantalizing scent of a hot dog wafts its way beneath his nose. “Do you want the rest of this? I’m not hungry.”

Jughead accepts the half-eaten snack, tilting his head to look Betty in the eyes before he takes a bite. “You sure?”

She smiles and nods, her knee gently nudging his in assurance beneath the fleece blanket they’re sharing. Smiling back, Jughead finishes it off in two bites. It’s pretty good – not as good as a hot dog from Pop Tate’s, but then, few things are.

The pleasure is short-lived, though, for as soon as the hot dog has disappeared down his gullet he’s back to feeling all of the unpleasant things he’s been feeling ever since they found their seats: cold, achy, and most of all, bored.

“Is Archie even going to play?” he mutters, lowering his tone so only Betty can hear.

The wind must carry his voice, because Reggie answers from her other side. “Probably not, unless they’ve got a solid lead heading into the fourth quarter. Even then, they’d have to be –”

“Cool.” Jughead doesn’t need the details. He doesn’t even know why Reggie is here. Sure, he was pals with Archie back in high school, but the rest of them? “Cool, cool, cool.”

“You should have sold your ticket, man.” Kevin leans forward from the end of the row, where he’s sitting on Veronica’s left, rounding out their group of five. Jughead is still not sure how he of all people ended up smack in the middle. “These are great seats. They were going for three hundred bucks online.”

“Kevin,” Veronica huffs. “These were a gift from Archie. You can’t just scalp them on the internet. It’s rude.”

Jughead agrees, which is why he hadn’t sold his, despite being sorely tempted to when he’d checked the ticket price on StubNub that morning. As a broke grad student, only loyalty had held him back. Archie’s been his best friend for well over half of his life at this point, and if honoring that friendship means attending one football game that Archie is getting paid outrageous sums of money to not even play in, well, Jughead will suck it up and deal.

He just doesn’t get why they have to do this while it’s so _cold_ outside. Nor why they have to do it on _Thanksgiving_ , of all days.

Of course, the holiday is what’s made it possible for all of them to be there together, with Archie’s team playing at LetLife Stadium, just over an hour’s drive from their hometown of Riverdale. Archie had been so earnest and excited when he’d told Jughead about it over FaceTime a few weeks ago that Jughead hadn’t had the heart to say no. And after years of dysfunctional Jones family Thanksgivings, a warm, home-cooked meal courtesy of Fred and Mary Andrews sounded pretty damn good, even if it was preceded by Jughead’s least favorite activity on Earth.

It didn’t hurt that Betty Cooper had been on the guest list, either.

“They’re starting the second quarter,” Betty assures him. “So halftime’s not that far off. Are you cold?”

Jughead feels the tips of his ears grow warm, grateful they’re hidden by his ever-present woolen beanie. He is cold, despite the plaid blanket tucked around their legs. But isn’t he the one who should be asking _her_ that, gallantly offering to drape his own jacket over her shivering shoulders?

Nevermind that Betty is the one who’d brought the blanket in the first place, or that she’s bundled up in a puffy black coat with elegant gray gloves that match her scarf, topping off her look with an incredibly adorable pair of fuzzy pink earmuffs. Jughead, running late after an unexpectedly long phone call with his mom and sister, had grabbed his sherpa jacket on the way out the door without bothering to check the weather forecast first. It had served him just fine last night at Pop’s, when they’d all stood around in the parking lot for twenty minutes while Veronica confirmed the logistics of their limo ride out to the stadium. How was he supposed to know this game might go on for _four hours_?

“I’m fine,” he insists, clamping his jaw shut so she won’t see his teeth chattering.

Unconvinced, Betty frowns, and tugs the blanket up higher over their laps before slipping her arm through his. She’s close enough now that he catches the faint scent of her perfume, woodsy and crisp. It reminds him of fall, which is probably the point.

“You look like you’re freezing,” she murmurs.

Jughead swallows as his leg begins to twitch with nervous energy. He’d thought he was long over the _thing_ he’d had for Betty back in high school – schoolboy crush, unrequited feelings, whatever. He’d never acted upon the thing, of course. Her friendship had always been more important to him than whatever possibility of _more_ might have existed solely in his own head.

After graduation their contact had been sporadic, mostly limited to group hangouts during winter breaks and summers home from college. Jughead used social media only begrudgingly, so seeing her in person every six months or so was like playing a little game of “spot the difference” with his own memory – a new haircut, a different coat, a deeper tan. Otherwise, Betty was out of sight, out of mind. He’d been determined not to spend his college years pining away for a girl who had never so much as held his hand, and in the end, he’d succeeded at that.

But as he’d realized last night at Pop’s, his attraction to her had never really ended so much as it had…hibernated. And all it took to rustle it out of its slumber was two hours sharing a booth with her, reminding him that she was, in fact, the smartest, most thoughtful, all-around best person he’s ever known. She’s just so _pretty_. And funny. And sharp – even more so now that she’s embarking upon a career in investigative journalism, a passion she’d first begun to cultivate back when they worked on the _Blue and Gold_ together at Riverdale High.

Jughead swallows. Allowing his mind to wander down that path is a bad idea right now. He’s certain that Betty will take one look at his face, and _know_.

He turns instead to his left. And immediately regrets it, because if anyone in this 80,000-seat stadium is a mind reader, it’s Veronica Lodge.

She raises an eyebrow, looking pointedly to where his arm is linked through Betty’s, both of their hands tucked beneath the fleece. “What else you got under that blanket?”

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

Jughead forces his gaze to the scoreboard floating above the stands on the other side of the field. On it, a beaming couple waves their red-cheeked baby’s tiny fist at the camera, all three of them decked out in the opposing team’s colors. Even he has to admit, it’s pretty cute.

And then –

 _Then_ –

The camera cuts away, landing on _his face._

Jughead’s entire body freezes. It’s _his face_ staring back at him in millions of pixels – _his face_ stretched at least thirty feet high across the scoreboard – _his face_ framed beside Betty’s inside of an enormous pink heart.

With a sharp intake of breath, Betty squeezes her arm tight around his.

“Betty,” he stammers. He can see his own giant face mouthing her name about a half-second later on the screen. The dissonance makes him dizzy. “Betty, why are we on camera? And why isn’t it going away?”

“Oh my god, you’re on the kiss cam!” Kevin sounds absolutely delighted.

Reggie pumps his fist in the air. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

“Oh, this is _perfect_ ,” he hears Veronica mutter.

Mouth open, eyes wide, he turns to Betty, who’s looking right back at him with an expression he’s never seen on her face before – vaguely amused, at least a little bit terrified, and maybe…hopeful?

No, that doesn’t make any sense.

“Well.” She tilts her chin and cups his jaw with one hand, the wool glove scratchy against his skin. Her tongue darts out to wet her lower lip, a motion that hits him right in the gut. “We may as well, right?”

She leans forward and kisses him.

All his thoughts of their friends, and the crowd, and the cold, and his own ridiculous face splashed across a fifty-foot screen in front of thousands of strangers – they all fade away. There is nothing but Betty’s lips, warm and insistent against his own. He kisses back, a frisson of pleasure melting through him as she makes the softest sound in the back of her throat.

It’s over all too soon. Betty pulls away, their lips parting with a small smack. Cheeks flushed, her mouth turns up in a bashful smile. Behind her, Reggie gives a loud whoop.

“Damn, Cooper! I didn’t know you had it in you!”

She giggles, turning towards him over her shoulder. “It’s the kiss cam! You have to give ‘em a show. Right, Jug?”

He starts to answer, only to find that his throat has completely closed up. He coughs into his fist. “Uh – yeah. For sure.”

“Most people settle for a quick peck,” Veronica notes. “Just saying.”

Face flaming, Jughead untangles his arm from Betty’s, rubbing his chilly hands together as he jumps to his feet. “I think I’m going to get a beer. Anyone want a beer?”

Kevin lifts his half-empty cup to say _yes_. Reggie lifts two half-empty cups, also saying _yes_.

“I’ll come with,” Betty says brightly.

“No! No.” Her face falls, and his stomach twists with guilt. But he needs a moment to process what just happened – and figure out how he’s going to stamp out the old, familiar embers newly reignited in his belly, the ones insisting that he would _very much_ like it to happen again.

Jughead folds his side of the blanket over onto Betty’s lap, patting it firmly with his hand. “You stay here. I’ve got it. You want anything?”

“Um, no thanks. I’m good.”

Veronica catches his sleeve as he stumbles towards the aisle, nearly tripping over her legs, which she has not moved at all to clear his path. “What are you doing?” she hisses.

He jerks his arm back with a scowl. “Nothing. I’m getting beer. Leave me alone.”

And that’s what he does.

Letting his beer bottle dangle between two fingers, Jughead pushes open the back door to Archie’s kitchen, and steps out onto the empty porch.

His breath hangs in the air before him as he leans against the wooden railing, gazing up at the star-sprinkled sky. The stargazing’s not as impressive as it used to be when he was growing up – thanks, suburban sprawl – but tonight he can see a hell of a lot more than he sees on any given night living in the city.

The door swings open and shut behind him. Jughead takes a swig of his drink, mentally preparing himself for another lengthy discussion of how _fuckin’ sweet_ Archie’s five minutes out on the field had been today. Not that he minds, really – he’s thrilled that his best friend is basically living his childhood dream at the age of twenty-three – he just doesn’t have much to contribute to the conversation.

But for now, at least, he doesn’t need to. Because the figure that shuffles up to the railing beside him, wrapped in her plaid blanket like a human burrito, is Betty.

“Hi,” she says quietly. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.”

The rest of the football game had unfolded without incident. Whatever jokes and innuendo their friends had needed to get out of their systems were finished by the time Jughead made it back to his seat with a round of beers, and he and Betty hadn’t acknowledged their kiss again.

But just a few hours later, as the six friends passed a bottle of champagne around the back of the limo in celebration of Archie’s first time on the field, Veronica had swiped open her phone, and gasped.

“Omigod, _look_ ,” she’d shrieked, and flipped the phone’s screen around to show them:

A video of Jughead and Betty kissing in the stands had gone viral. Sort of. (Because Veronica had recorded it all on her phone and sent it to her friend at HummFeed, who was apparently working the holiday meme shift, and desperate for material.)

“Okay, but it’s not even _that_ viral,” Kevin had insisted over dinner, as they’d all tried to explain to Mary and Fred how a thirty-second clip of their son’s childhood best friends kissing had ended up…maybe not _all over_ the internet, but sprinkled around it, for sure. “It’s only got like, twenty thousand hits. I saw a video of a dog in a Baby Yoda costume posted this morning that already hit a million.”

Mary had watched the video at least four times, squinting in confusion at Archie’s iPad. “But why are so many people watching it?”

“Because everyone loves to see a smokeshow go for a total dork.” Veronica grinned at Jughead over her third glass of red wine. “It gives them hope.”

“V,” Betty said sharply.

To her credit, Veronica had looked immediately chastened – probably because she was drunk, and therefore prone to rapid mood swings. “No, no. I just mean – it’s really cute. Jughead’s all awkward and blushy and Betty just _goes_ for it.”

Jughead had remained uncharacteristically quiet throughout the discussion, exhaling a silent sigh of relief when Reggie changed the subject back to whether or not Archie had made out with any of his team’s cheerleaders. Maybe Reggie’s presence wasn’t such a burden, after all.

Now that he’s got a few glasses of wine in his system, Jughead’s feeling more relaxed about it all. But it hadn’t exactly felt _great_ to hear his own insecurities spoken out loud over Thanksgiving dinner by Veronica Lodge, of all people. Especially not when the object of his crush – a crush that he’s embarrassed to admit has come _roaring_ back over the past twenty-four hours – was sitting right there.

A glass of white wine pokes out from the lip of Betty’s blanket cocoon, and he snorts as she takes a delicate sip before it disappears back beneath the fleece. “What? It’s freezing out here.”

“We can go back inside.”

“No.” Betty shakes her head. “I’ve been trying to get you alone all day.”

This is news to Jughead. “You have?”

“Yes. I wanted to tell you –” she takes a deep breath – “I’m moving to New York.”

New York. New York as in New York City – as in the city where he, Jughead, is attending grad school.

“That’s awesome,” he blurts out.

“I know!” Betty smiles up at him, eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that makes his knees weak. “I’m starting a new job in January, and I’m so excited. I wanted to see if you had any, like – tips.”

Jughead glances back towards the house. Everyone must have migrated into the living room to drink and digest; the kitchen is empty. “You sure you want tips from me? Not Veronica?”

Betty laughs. “She knows, but – Veronica lives in an entirely different world. I need advice from a real person. Someone who doesn’t have a personal chauffeur to drive them across Manhattan every hour of the day.”

“Okay.” Jughead nods slowly. “Okay, let me think about that. Do you have an apartment yet?” She shakes her head no. “So we’re really starting from scratch here. Alright. This is interesting.”

Betty giggles, sneaking another sip of her wine.

He spitballs for a few minutes about some of his favorite neighborhoods, and Betty nods along, though since she’s not exactly sure where her new office is located – “somewhere in midtown” – he’s hesitant to recommend anything too enthusiastically, lest she end up with a terrible commute.

“Sorry,” he says, sheepish. “This is probably deeply boring. I’ll stop.”

“No, it’s great.” Betty bumps her body against his arm. “I appreciate it. I want to know all my options.”

Something in her expression makes a sudden shift. “I’m really sorry about earlier today,” she says. “I wasn’t – I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t. You don’t have to apologize.” Jughead turns towards her, feeling an urge to touch her elbow in reassurance, but he pauses when he realizes he can’t tell where it is underneath the blanket wrapped around her body. “Veronica’s the one who blasted it around the internet.”

She ducks her chin. “Yeah, she just…always thinks she’s helping.”

“Helping,” he mumbles. “Helping who.”

He doesn’t really expect an answer, but Betty shrugs. “Helping me.”

She doesn’t elaborate. He watches her face, but it’s tipped towards the stars, betraying nothing. She’s always had a pretty good poker face.

“What?”

Betty sighs. “We were hanging out last night, and I told her I’d always wondered what it would be like to kiss you. You know how she is.”

Jughead feels dizzy all over again. “And…plastering that video all over HummFeed helps you…how?”

“Well.” When she finally looks at him, it’s with a hint of a smile in her eyes. “We’re having this conversation right now.”

At a loss for words, Jughead simply stares at her. Betty stares right back.

And then, in some kind of mutual, unspoken understanding, they lean in together, noses bumping before their lips meet.

All things considered, Jughead prefers this kiss: it’s private, for one thing, and for another, he’s feeling bold enough to open his mouth against hers. He brushes his tongue against her lower lip, heart racing when she grazes his with her teeth. His hands find what he thinks is her waist, but honestly, it’s tough to tell under the bulky fabric of her blanket.

She pulls away sooner than he’d like. “Jughead.” She sounds concerned. “You’re shivering.”

It’s true. He is. And he doesn’t really care – he’d spend all night out here in the cold if it’s with her. But it’s probably too soon to tell her that.

Carefully, he finds the edges of her blanket, peeling them away from her body. Catching on quick, a smile blossoms over her face as she helps him, wrapping the fleece around his back as she circles his shoulders with her arms, enclosing them both within its folds.

“You’ll warm me up,” he tells her, leaning in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to the lovely bugheadchemistry and i-know-you-can and heartunsettledsoul for the encouragement! <3 <3 <3
> 
> i've never been to a pro football game, my university did not have a football team; if any of the extremely few details about a football game/stadium/whatever in this fic are incorrect, uh, sorry?
> 
> ETA: title is from Carly Rae Jepsen's song "I Really Like You"! tbh the title does not make a whole lot of sense, but i like the vibe of that song for this fic, so.
> 
> if you enjoyed, please leave a kudos and/or comment - i thrive on it! xoxo!


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